


Inopportune Moment

by f_fandom



Series: Jim and Spock One-shots [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, Hurt James T. Kirk, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Injury Recovery, Insecure Spock (Star Trek), James T. Kirk Loves Spock, Leonard "Bones" McCoy Saves the Day, Leonard "Bones" McCoy is So Done, M/M, Misunderstandings, Near Death Experiences, Oblivious James T. Kirk, POV Spock (Star Trek), Past Spock/Nyota Uhura, Possessive Spock (Star Trek), Protective Spock (Star Trek), Spock Loves James T. Kirk, T'hy'la
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-20 22:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30011796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_fandom/pseuds/f_fandom
Summary: Sothis is beforeJim and Spock are together, but they’re both in love with each other and completely oblivious. Jim is seriously wounded during an away mission and tries to  tell Spock his feelings, and Spock tries to ask again once they’re in Sickbay, but you know the dance these two have to go through. They’re gonna be selfless and stubborn and deny it even if it kills them. Oh, boys...
Series: Jim and Spock One-shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153928
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Spock did not see it when it happened, and he will forever blame himself that he was not paying more attention to his surroundings. That he was so distracted by the overwhelming need to protect his Captain, he failed to protect himself--thereby endangering Jim in the greatest way possible by setting him up to take a mortal shot meant for Spock. They were pinned down by enemy fire, but managing to hold their position. They had sustained the fight for an impressive length of time with only superficial injuries. He and Jim both sported scrapes and bruises, and Spock himself had a deep scorch burn across his arm from a near miss. Blood stained his uniform sleeve down to his wrist, but there was no time to stop and bind it. Spock blamed this physical impairment for his potential weakness as well, though it was an unacceptable excuse and should not have affected his performance. 

They'd been focused and mainly silent as they covered their designated areas, crouching back to back. They didn't need to speak. They operated in such synchrony that they knew what the other needed before even asking. Even their body movements matched. Spock had always marveled at this, especially since his awareness of a mental bond link between him and Jim, something he'd been suspicious of ever since the Nerada incident, but had become certain of after Jim's death. He'd felt it break, whatever the strength of the bond was. And it was still there once Jim was resurrected. He did not allow this bond to flourish, did not seek to ever burden Jim with its knowledge. But it called to him constantly, and when they were in close proximity he could feel it burning brightly, tempting him to reach out and grasp it. But that was not something Jim would desire with him. He was interested in Carol Marcus, and was not monogamous in the least bit. And this bond, even if it was a simple connection like Spock suspected it was, would drive him to jealousy the more and more he nurtured it. He could not ask that of Jim. Would not. 

But still, they operated flawlessly together, and Spock was slowly losing himself in his attraction for Jim, his desire for there to be more. Jim's death had destroyed him, and he'd come to realize he could no longer live without him. If all he ever had was Jim's friendship, he convinced himself that would be enough. But his soul desired this man. It drove him to destroy any who would harm Jim and to claim him as his own. Spock tamped the possessive aspects of his secret desires, but could not suppress much more. The other week, he'd glared so hard at a new ensign who placed her hand on Jim's shoulder that she'd stumbled off the bridge with watering eyes. Jim had given him a strange look of disapproval but yet, understanding as well. And he'd not said anything of it to Spock.

But now, Jim's panicked voice broke his focus, and he glanced over to see Jim shout his name and fling himself toward Spock to knock him out of the way. Phaser blasts exploded above them and behind as the rockface was destroyed. Spock squinted through the dust and rose to his feet, but a terrible choking sound made him look down. 

Jim was attempting to get up, but he was shaking and coughing, and Spock heard an "ah, fuck" as he dropped back to Jim's side. He waved dust away with his hand and took in the sight of Jim, curled on his side, long legs sprawled. His arm pressed heavy to his left side, and he cried out when Spock tried to move his arm to see the damage. There was blood everywhere. Too much. He couldn't see how badly Jim was hurt, but he knew it was not superficial. 

Their enemy was moving, trying to close in on their position before the dust cleared and they lost sight of them. Spock used those precious seconds to throw Jim across his shoulders and hold his leg and his arm and run. Jim sucked back a scream and only groaned again, grasping onto Spock's shirt, anything. Spock's neck and back were already warm with blood. He skipped the first ruined building he came across and dashed inside the second one instead that still had structural integrity and shelter. Closing the door behind him with his foot, he sweep cleared the rooms, holding his phaser in the hand that secured Jim's leg around his shoulder. Once he was certain they were alone, he lowered Jim off his back and onto the floor against the wall. It was late afternoon there, and light streamed through the broken boards hammered in a nearby window.

Jim raised his knees a bit to keep his back against the wall while he wrapped his arm around himself and grimaced with eyes squeezed shut. He was already pale and sweaty, and Spock saw blood on his teeth as he clenched his jaw. He kept his hand on Jim's shoulder for a moment, letting them both catch their breath. Jim coughed and then groaned.

"Fuck, Spock," he said wetly. "How long do you think before the Enterprise...?"

"I do not know, Captain. The landing party was separated, and there may be atmosphere interference. Please move your arm so I can assess your injury."

Jim closed his eyes hard and blinked them open. His pupils had retracted in pain, and Spock did not like the speed and frequency of his fluttering eyelids, as if fighting the pull of unconsciousness already. Still, he slowly removed his hand, covered in blood, and let Spock maneuver his arms for better access. Spock leaned low and froze, unable to process the damage he was seeing. Jim had taken phaser fire in his right side through the ribs--exactly where Spock's heart would have been if he'd been hit. Gentle hands feeling at Jim's back confirmed it was a through and through shot, and so the energy plasma had burned and torn entirely though his body. Spock saw shrapnel too, a large piece from the explosion that he dared not consider attempting to remove.

"I've had worse," Jim said quietly. "Trust me."

"You say that as if it makes the current circumstance any less unacceptable," Spock snapped. "As it is, I estimate you will exsanguinate in 14.5 minutes unless I can slow the bleeding."

Jim made a noise in his throat. "That's longer than I calculated. You sure you're not exaggerating?"

"My calculations are precise, Captain. Hold still."

"Spock, just--"

"Hold still!"

Jim snapped his mouth shut and let Spock lift his shirt. Spock sucked in a breath at seeing Jim's skin, the horrible wound smearing his ribs and abdominal muscles with blood and broken flesh. As Jim breathed slowly, agonizingly, fresh blood spewed from the wound in each exhale. As Spock held the material up, staring and trying not to panic, Jim coughed, and more blood ran out of his body. Jim turned his head to the side and spit bloody phlegm, groaning. In furious silence, Spock yanked his own uniform shirt over his head, leaving him in his black undershirt and revealing the deep gash in his arm. He turned the shirt inside out and folded it.

"You need a strip of that for your arm."

"Did I not instruct you to hold still, Captain?"

"I am holding still."

"You are using up precious oxygen by speaking."

"Hey, don't get pissy with me just cause I'm bleeding out all over the floor. I'm still in command."

"And if you lose consciousness and die?" Spock bit his cheek at his fearful anger in choice of words.

"Then you get your ship back like you always wanted." Jim broke off his glare with a groan that had him clenching his teeth and falling forward. 

Spock huffed out a deep breath through his nose. “That is _not_ what I want,” is all he could manage.

“I know,” Jim whispered. “I’m sorry.” He knocked his head back against the wall. Blood dripped off the dirt on his chin. The rest of his face was covered in dirt and superficial scratches as well, but could not hide the sinking pallor of his skin.

Spock snapped back to action. He located a piece of wood near his knee and he picked it up, inspecting it for splinters or residue. It was not sanitized, but it would have to do. He pulled Jim back up and made him sit against the wall. He held the wide length of the wood up to Jim's mouth, and when Jim tried to ask what he thought he was doing, Spock stuck the wood between his teeth.

"Bite down, Jim. This will hurt."

Jim mumbled a “what’re you doing” around the wood in his mouth and then screamed, driving his head against the wall as Spock pressed the thick folded section of his uniform to the bleeding wound. He tried to arch away, but Spock’s firm hand held him steady and wrapped the arms of his shirt around Jim's torso. Making sure it was still in place, he tied it and synched it hard. Jim screamed louder and his molars crunched the wood. After rechecking the tourniquet, Spock prompted Jim to loosen his jaw so he could remove the wood from his mouth. It came away with blood and spit, and Jim glared at him while he breathed heavily.

"You called me Jim," he rasped.

Spock repeated his words and realized he had indeed called Jim by his first name out loud. He had not intended to. His control was lapsing, and he could not afford it at a critical time like this. He clenched his hands in his lap and looked away.

"Shit, if I'd have known this was all it took..." Jim broke off in a laugh that proceeded into a harsh cough. He doubled over and coughed, spitting blood as his eyes watered. He groaned and focused on his shallow breathing. 

Spock had not felt himself lean forward and place both hands on Jim's shoulders. He steadied him and grimaced at the blood trailing from Jim's mouth. He wiped it with his thumb when Jim straightened and collapsed against the wall, exhausted. Jim watched him, breathing in air that rattled in his lungs and throat. His gaze was so intent, ripping into Spock's mind so easily and tragically that Spock had to avert his eyes. He stared instead at the growing disaster of blood spreading across the dusty floorboards under Jim's thighs. If Jim did not receive care soon...

He opened his communicator and stood, crossing a few paces away to hide the fear and anguish on his face as he tried to hail the Enterprise. Jim let him, and Spock stood facing the opposite wall for well over a minute, hailing, checking the frequency dials, hailing again uselessly. He stood there, trying to breathe slowly, unable to turn around and look at Jim. He knew he would lose control the moment he did. Jim needed him to be strong right now. 

"Spock," Jim whispered. 

And of course, Spock turned immediately, his face falling as he crossed the room back to Jim and knelt in front of him. His face had lost all color except for his lips, which were spotted with fresh blood. Sweat glistened in a sheen against his forehead, his cheeks, down his neck, which moved unevenly as he tried to swallow repeatedly and gasp in air. His hands were loose in his lap, one hand semi-pressed to his side, holding the tourniquet that was soaked through with blood. His legs sprawled, one knee still pushed up, but wobbling. He looked ready to slide down the wall, like he couldn't move his head.

"You gotta keep trying. Even after...you...you keep hailing. That's an order."

He meant even after he died. The sheer audacity of this man.

"You would think to leave me in this manner?” Spock snapped. “I will not permit you to. You will survive this."

Jim just smiled tiredly. "Logic. Spock."

"Logic is not everything."

"Sometimes s'all there is...And s'not your fault. Yield to...the logic of what is."

"I do not accept what is."

Jim smiled again. "Stubborn. S'why I love you." At Spock's stunned silence, he focused for a second and blinked wide. "Sorry. M'sorry, Spock. Y'know what I mean. Don't tell Uhura."

Spock reached out and touched Jim's face. _"I do not love Nyota,"_ he wanted to say. Jim's eyes widened and stared as Spock caressed his cheek with his thumb. Long minutes passed. Spock shuddered against the pain exuding off of his Captain, his friend. Jim was fighting it admirably, trying to stay awake and not think about the agony in his side. His heart rate was spiraling out of control as he lost more and more blood, trying to make up the extra work of circulating oxygen. Jim forced his breaths slowly, measuredly, but they hitched in his throat and made him cough around the blood. Spock pressed peace and comfort through the bond he knew he shouldn't be touching. His fingers found the meld points blindly, naturally, like falling into a dream. He reached in and grabbed the highest peaks of Jim's agony and absorbed them, feeling his jaw clench against the mental anguish. He didn't notice Jim crying until the tears wet his fingers. He pulled away, frightened, and then Jim looked alone, so frighteningly small and alone, as if removing the physical and mental contact had reduced him.

"You...in my head?" 

"I am sorry, Captain. Please...forgive me. I thought to lessen your pain."

"S'not a nice place t'be." 

"I..." Spock tried and failed to keep his voice from cracking, from wanting to say, _”There is no place I would rather be.”_ Instead he said, "I must keep you conscious until help arrives."

"You called me Captain again," Jim breathed. 

"I am sorry. Jim. Please. You must stay awake."

Jim blinked slowly, swallowing and giving little gasps. He looked like he wanted to say something, but could not decide. Or couldn't start. Spock wanted to help. Would do anything to help. This man in front of him, dying again, had driven him beyond a place of logic. Spock shuddered and reined in his fury. He did not want to frighten Jim--Jim, who was looking at him like if he broke eye-contact he would not be able to make it again. Those beautiful blue eyes, made brighter by his tears, broke Spock apart. Then Jim was beginning to shiver. In a few moments he would slip into shock. So, once again, Spock moved without thinking. He sat close beside Jim on his uninjured side and wrapped an arm around him. He placed his other hand on Jim's chest, to keep the tips of his fingers on his throat’s pulse point and to feel the state of his lungs, he told himself. Jim stiffened for only a second at the intimate touch and then let his head fall onto Spock's shoulder. 

"Fu'ing hurts."

"I know. I know. It will not be much longer."

"You..." Jim mumbled. "S'not fair. Never got t'tell you."

"Tell me what, Jim?" Spock held Jim's head to him and ran fingers through his hair. He ran his first two fingers along Jim's temple over and over. 

"Wanted t'tell you before. Couldn't touch you then."

Spock grasped his hand, threading their fingers together. He would not pause to consider the meaning of his actions, the desperation behind them. The thick glass of the warp core chamber that had kept him from reaching before. Jim struggled to move his fingers, wet and drying with blood. He rubbed his first two fingers against Spock's, aligning.

"I keep making excuses," Jim breathed. I...shit...Spock, I’m--"

And his fingers stopped moving. His shaking breaths stalled. No. Spock shook him gently. Of course only someone like James Kirk would leave Spock hanging at such a moment. He could not leave at all. Spock panicked and moved Jim out of his arms to lie flat on the ground. He cradled his head and jabbed his fingers under his jaw, feeling in his throat for a pulse. There wasn't one. Jim's pale lips were parted in blood, and his eyelids displayed a thin line of white underneath. His face was covered in sweat, but was clammy against Spock's hands. No, no, no. 

"No!" Spock automatically began CPR, interlocking his hands and beginning chest compressions. He continued without ceasing, trying not to think about the blood still soaking the useless tourniquet with every jolt of Jim's body. He stopped to breathe into Jim’s lungs in the proper sequence, pinching Jim's nose closed and sealing his lips to Jim's. Oh, that this was how he first got to touch them, got to feel them against his own. The last reason he would ever want to press his mouth to Jim's. Blood stained his lips when he pulled away and continued compressions. He grimaced as he felt Jim's ribs creaking, hating the further damage he was causing. His own blood continued trickling from the wound in his arm. It mixed onto Jim's chest, a merging of green and red on gold. 

"You tell me what you were going to say, Jim. Come back and tell me. Breathe, damn you. Do not do this to me. Do not leave me again."

And he dove for that blinding thread in his mind that he knew not to approach. He grasped it without looking into it, without giving himself the pleasure of witnessing it openly for even a second. He did not listen to the voice that told him this could be his only chance if it disappeared forever. But he would not enter the bond fully without Jim's permission, even if that meant it never happening. But he could hold it and prevent it from dimming. He grasped it and fed into it, tugging it gently when it began slipping. He redirected it, reactivated it, stoked it like a fire and refused to let it starve out. He would continue with the breaths and the chest compressions until his own body gave out. 

Jim’s chest was damp with sweat under the uniform. It gathered in the hollow at the base of his throat, glimmering, and Spock could not look away from that beautiful face, that beautiful _pale and lax_ face. It rolled to the side and back every time Spock’s weight slammed onto his body with the chest compressions. But he could not stop. It was as though he witnessed things through a shrinking lens, actions merging together and spiraling out of control through a deadly monotony that led nowhere. He did not stop, even when he heard running footsteps, when the broken door burst open and Doctor McCoy flew in with a security team. He did not look up at them until Doctor McCoy knelt beside him, cursing, and began running tricorder scans.

"His pulse stopped 4.3 minutes ago, Doctor," Spock hissed. "Do not ask me to stop."

"Don't you fucking dare stop." McCoy dispensed a round of hypos into Jim's neck and felt for a pulse while Spock continued chest compressions. 

Seconds. Precious more seconds. Then, "He's back! Beam us directly to sickbay!" and blinding relief. Nausea and pain and sobbing. He could not breathe. He reached for Jim's pale face, still so lax and cold. "It's okay, Spock. I'm getting him to surgery now. You kept him alive. You saved him." And then hands grabbing him. A stab in his own side. Had he been hit after all, despite Jim’s sacrifice? "Spock, goddamn it!" Then darkness.

___________________________________

The third backhand woke him, and Spock grabbed Doctor McCoy’s wrist before he could strike him again. He laid in a bio bed in sickbay, clothed in a hospital garment, and he blinked against the bright lights and McCoy’s gruff, if relieved, face staring down at him.

“Congratulations, Spock,” he said. “You’re my first Vulcan heart attack patient.”

Spock blinked. He had suffered a cardiac arrest? Obviously, since he sat in a hospital bed in Sickbay and did, in fact, feel a great tenderness in his side. Fascinating. His arm was also mended and wrapped in a thin bandage. 

“What is the Captain’s condition?”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Shoulda known. Might as well come see him. But you get up _slowly_ or I’ll sedate your green ass.”

Spock would have normally returned with a dry response, but he was too focused on ascertaining Jim’s wellbeing. McCoy paused to give him a moment, like he was waiting for a retort to blow up at, but then he just groaned.

“I can’t handle this,” he said. “I’m not a couple’s therapist.”

“I do not understand, Doctor.”

“And that’s the whole fucking point, isn’t it, Spock?”

McCoy sighed as they walked the short distance to Jim’s relegated corner of sickbay. Spock clenched his jaw at the familiarity, the pattern of Jim’s injuries and near-death experiences that had established him as a regular patient requiring a whole secluded _wing_ to himself. McCoy pulled back the partition curtain and displayed Jim asleep in a tilted up bed. His golden hair was mussed, and his closed eyes held dark shadows beneath, all set against a pale and drawn face. A nasal cannula wrapped over his ears, and his head was tilted away from them. Monitors and IV lines snaked everywhere from his arms and torso under the short-sleeved medical gown and blanket pulled to his waist. The familiar sounds of slowly beeping monitors created a soundtrack he loathed. Spock fought every fiber of his being from rushing to Jim’s side and taking up his hand. His mind rejoiced at seeing Jim in the flesh, and the forbidden bond filled him with warmth.

“You’ve both been out of it for two days now. Jim required a series of surgeries, but he’s slowly on the mend. I had to restart his goddamn heart three different times on the table, and he’s completely run me out of stock on blood transfusions, so we’d better hope he doesn’t blow himself apart again before we make it to the next fucking Starbase. If it means keeping his ass on that bridge and away from the Transporter Room, then I’m not above pulling rank on him.”

“Perhaps you should, Doctor.” Spock stepped closer and allowed himself to reach out and touch the back of Jim’s hand where an IV line penetrated his skin. Such antiquated technology still confounded Spock, but McCoy had convinced him more than once of the stability of such methods over new “gadgets and gizmos.”

McCoy checked his charts at the head of Jim’s bio bed. ‘I could, but you know how he gets. And then we’re in this awkward love-hate relationship of silence for weeks.”

“A love-hate relationship?” Spock’s heart stuttered. “I was not aware you and the Captain were engaged in romantic liaisons.” 

“Romantic say what now?” McCoy glared at him. “Hell no! Are you out of your Vulcan mind? What am I thinking—of course you are! Mr. Logical couldn’t see what’s right in front of him if it had L-O-G-I-C taped to its forehead.”

Spock opened and closed his mouth. Then he pulled up a nearby chair and settled into it, studying Jim’s face and hoping the Doctor would leave. 

“Spock?” McCoy asked, far gentler, but curious. “Did you ever tell Jim that you and Uhura broke up?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I did not realize that was pertinent information. I would have thought it obvious. You have apparently discerned it, as well as the rest of the crew. It was a considerable time ago.”

McCoy grimaced like he’d forced someone to realize something painful, and yet the accompanying revelation hadn’t sparked. He pointed a hypospray at Spock.

“Maaaaaybe you should tell him anyway. S’all I’m sayin.”

And before Spock could question why, the Doctor walked away. Spock heard him talking to himself, as he was fond of doing, this time drawling out a remorse that he was not “paid enough to work on this tin can filled with oblivious infants.”

Jim’s hand shifting under his drew Spock’s attention immediately back to the bed. He watched carefully as Jim’s eyelids rolled and squinted. His pale face grimaced and he took a sharp intake of breath, hissing. Spock pressed a hand gently on his chest to prevent him from trying to sit up. Jim’s thick pectoral muscles were tense under his fingers, and Spock sensed the bare skin as easily as if there was no thin medical gown preventing him from actually touching. 

“Please remain calm, Captain. You are safe, and we are back on the Enterprise. All is well.”

Jim groaned and dragged the hand on his thigh up to his side, where dense layers of bandages encased his torso. He mumbled something along the lines of “all’s well my ass.” And then louder, “Sickbay?”

“Yes,” Spock answered. 

Jim peered his eyes open, revealing the striking blue Spock had missed so much. He blinked and glanced around, fixing his gaze on Spock for stability, and either unaware or unconcerned with Spock’s hand on his. Spock had found himself unable to remove it, focused as he was on calming the violent rush of fear, anxiety, and pain he felt from Jim. Jim licked his dry lips, and Spock swallowed deeply at the sight. Jim coughed.

“Shit,” he rasped. 

Spock quickly held out a glass of water so that the straw was level with Jim’s lips. Jim sipped and made a grateful noise in his throat before sighing and letting his head fall back on the pillow. He breathed and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. Spock held his breath as Jim twisted his dry hand so that his fingertips touched Spock’s. He did this absentmindedly, as he often performed his casual touches, and Spock recognized the simple need for contact, though his heart rate pounded at the implications of their finger arrangement.

“Jim,” he began slowly. “Doctor McCoy tasked me with a strange directive, and told me I should inform you that Ltn. Uhura and I are no longer romantically involved, and have not been for 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days.”

Jim continued staring at the ceiling and then blinked at him for so long Spock wondered if he had heard or understood.

“Well shit,” Jim finally rasped, his voice still weak. “I’m sorry, Spock. I had no idea. You two seemed to be working so well. I didn’t even—”

“The severance of our romantic relationship would never impact our professional duties as colleagues and officers, Captain. We remain close friends.”

“Of course—I didn’t mean to imply—I...well, that’s good, I guess? Are you...is there someone else? No wait, I’m sorry, what the fuck am I—it’s not my business...”

‘There is,” Spock blurted out.

Jim did his blinking routine again, looking like an adorable owl with his hair still mussed and the medicated confusion still filling his face with exhaustion. Spock wanted to smooth the hair at his forehead, but lowered his hand disguisedly on the bed frame when he accidentally raised it.

“Oh...,” Jim said. Why did he sound so small and disappointed? 

“You should tell her, then,” Jim said. 

It was Spock’s turn to blink in confusion. But Jim was grimacing again and touching his side gingerly. Above him, the medication automatically hissed and administered another dose of morphine. Jim’s face softened as it entered his bloodstream, and the sigh of pained relief that accompanied it filled Spock with concern. He shifted his fingers, still in Jim’s loose grasp.

“You were going to tell me something, Captain. On the planet’s surface before you lost consciousness, you said you had something to tell me.”

Jim’s eyes had been closing and he blinked them open. “I did?” He seemed to be asking himself and he frowned, looking like he was light years away as he contemplated. Then his constricted breathing grew faster and it seemed to Spock’s eye that he may have suddenly remembered but was now trying to find a way out. His unease was evident.

Against his desires, Spock found himself saying, “If you do not remember, Captain, it is of no consequence.”

Jim’s eyes began to water, and Spock panicked. Was Jim still in more severe pain than he realized? He had never intended to cause him distress. He reached a hand toward Jim’s shoulder, but Jim squeezed his eyes shut, and when they opened, there was a familiar, if maddening and heartbreaking, barrier in place that Spock recognized all too easily. 

“I’m sorry, Spock,” he whispered. He sighed, and it broke off as a sob in his throat that he nearly convincingly disguised as a cough. He closed his eyes and let his head lean back further on the pillow. His throat moved as he swallowed, and Spock wanted to touch it, feel the pulse to reassure himself. He wanted to stroke Jim’s jaw, offer comfort for this immense emotional pain he felt exuding off of him, some massive internal struggle he was trying to control. 

“Captain...”

Jim smirked in his sleep and scoffed. but sadly. Tiredly. Tired in more ways than one. 

“‘Captain’ again,” he breathed. ‘Thanks for saving my ass, Spock. Listen. You...you should really tell this new girl about your feelings, okay? Trust me-don’t sit on it.”

Spock mentally begged Jim to open his eyes. Open his eyes and look at him because one look was all it would take for him to realize, Spock was sure. He felt the staggering frustration that Doctor McCoy had earlier displayed. Was he aware? But Jim slipped into unconsciousness again and Spock heard a small, hurt noise in the back of his own throat. Once again, James Kirk had the audacity to fall asleep at a crucial moment of information relay. If he could not handle his feelings for this man, they would soon drive him to insanity. 

Perhaps Jim had realized Spock’s intentions, and only made the intentional mistake of assuming he was in love with another female officer because he did not want Spock’s affections and did not return them. Such a misunderstanding would keep him from having to turn Spock down, as well as prevent Spock from further attempting to state his intentions in the first place. But Spock stared at their hands held together, at the way Jim’s fingers had interlocked themselves further as he slept. Spock covered Jim’s hand with his other and held it between his palms. So warm and strong. He rubbed the tender skin of Jim’s wrist.

He ignored the bond glowing and celebrating in his mind. _No,_ he told it. Jim misunderstood—either intentionally or unintentionally—and he would not put his friend, his t’hy’la, in the position of having to further clarify. He had loved Jim afar for this long. He had denied the bond and sealed away his true feelings for this long. It grew easier with each day. And more painful. But he was not unaccustomed to emotional pain, even if he did not know how to handle it or sit with it, as Jim seemed to have the ability to do. But Spock was Vulcan. With an increase of time spent in meditation, he could strengthen his barriers. 

Spock allowed himself one more glance at Jim’s sleeping face, still pale and drawn, as if in pain still. He reached out and stroked the wayward hair from Jim’s brow. Let his two fingers rest there a moment. Jim leaned into the touch, sighing, and the bond illuminated again. Spock forced the beacon down and removed his fingers before Jim could open his eyes. Then he reverently slipped his hand loose from Jim’s hold, watching Jim’s fingers twitch, as if searching for the lost contact.

The bond seeks him in his unconsciousness, Spock realized. Jim was defenseless to its influence, and such a breach of mental privacy was beyond heinous for a Vulcan to permit. Spock clenched his eyes shut, shame drilling him to his very core. He would acquire a stern handle on this. He must. The bond had not come into being through intentional desire. It had formed on its own, spontaneously. And if Spock ignored it, let it weaken, it would dissolve on its own, unfulfilled and thus unable to survive. And so Jim would be free from the danger Spock knew he would always present to him as long as it existed in his mind to tempt him.

And before he turned to leave, to return to his own bed and change back into his uniform to discharge himself, whether McCoy wished it or not, he pressed the gentle thought to Jim’s mind: _Sleep, ashayam, my t’hy’la._


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more idiocy and denial as Jim recovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People wanted a little more from this one-shot, so I continued it a little bit just to tease some more. There is at least one other story I have planned of them being love-struck idiots, and I’ll publish that soon while I brainstorm how they’ll **finally** confess it to each other.

Spock arrived regularly during the next few days while Jim was recuperating in Sickbay. Despite the surgery, Jim still had trouble breathing without pain, as the damage to his left lung had been severe. He had also developed a fever to fight off infection in the wound. Spock clasped his hands together in his lap as he sat by Jim's bedside and listened to the horrible wheezing in his chest as he slept. His face was still far too pale, and Spock had taken it upon himself to regularly apply a damp cloth to the flushed skin at Jim's forehead. Jim leaned into the touch, and Spock cupped the side of his face with it, pressing it along his neck and down his throat where sweat gathered. Doctor McCoy leaned against the partition and watched him with a peculiar expression, but always raised his hands and walked away whenever Spock sent a challenging glare. 

It unnerved Spock to hear Jim mumble his name in his fevered sleep, as if Jim were calling for him. He held Jim's hand and leaned close, reassuring Jim that he was there. At times, Jim's eyes peered open, and hazy blue stared at him. Then Jim would smile, mumble something unintelligible (because of course he would--the sheer audacity), and then slip into sleep once more, as if comforted that Spock's presence meant it was safe to do so. But he was in his usual chair at Jim's bedside late one night, working on reports that needed signing and reviewing in Jim's absence, when Jim began tossing and turning in his sleep. Spock was aware that the Captain often had difficulties sleeping and suffered from insomnia and nightmares, but to witness one so close was startling. Jim's chest began heaving, though it clearly pained him and the monitor above his head registered his body's rising response. His brow furrowed and he grimaced, mumbling a clear "no" over and over. Spock touched his hand, and that sent Jim further into his nightmare, fighting more and more. He arched his back on the bed, trying to turn away from whatever was threatening him. Spock tossed aside the padd and sat on the bed beside Jim's thighs, which were thrashing and kicking. He grabbed Jim's shoulders, but Jim began crying softly, tears evident on his face. And it was the whimpered "please" that sent Spock over the edge.

Spock easily slipped into Jim's mind, refusing to go below a purely surface meld in order to help regulate his emotions and press suggestions of peace and calm. He was not prepared for the onslaught of mental anguish and hopelessness that met him, exuding from Jim's mind in such strength and ferocity that it was immediately obvious to Spock that this nightmare was of an actual memory. He refused to pry, but he could not shake off the gripping fear and despair that clawed at him from Jim's mind. The physical agony associated from the memory that had nothing to do with the current wound along Jim's side. What had happened in Jim's life to subject him to such a horror that would have long-lasting trauma such as he was witnessing? Who had harmed him in such a manner? The bond surged against him, berating him and blaming him for not better protecting Jim, for not learning these answers and eradicating whomever was responsible. But Jim's privacy was paramount, and he would not pry. Shaking and traumatized from the pure emotional anguish, Spock focused his attention to press _sleepsafeyouaresafedonotfearsleep_ until Jim's respiration returned to normal and he once again fell limp on the pillow. 

McCoy was there when he opened his eyes. He glared with his arms across his chest, while Spock rearranged the blankets up to Jim's shoulders and returned to his chair.

"Now I know you wouldn't go rummaging through Jim's mind like that without permission. Would you, Spock."

"I sought only to intervene against his nightmare. To calm him and help him sleep."

McCoy's eyes just narrowed further. "That kid has more trauma than you may ever know, Spock, as I gathered you picked up during your field trip in there. And it's not my place to tell you. I trust you will never invade Jim's privacy or question him."

Everything in Spock's soul cried _Yes, I will question him! Yes, I will learn of these traumas in order to protect him! I must! He has been harmed and carries trauma and I must protect him!_ But he pushed down the bond's demands and shook his head sadly. McCoy knew. Jim had confided in McCoy, but not him. 

This thought and the remnants of Jim's anguishing nightmare plagued Spock for days. Even when Jim was released and still off-duty, forced to take it easy in his quarters. Even when Spock searched for him on the Observation Deck where he knew Jim often wandered. A corner near the back, where he always sat sideways against the window with his knees tucked up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. Staring out at the beauty of the stars, the constancy and eternity. Of course, he knew Spock was there. Heard him approach. He was the only one who could do that. Not even Uhura noticed when Spock entered the room the way Jim did.

"It's late, Spock," Jim said quietly, not looking away from the stars. "What are you doing here?"

Spock gripped his hands behind his back. "Searching for you, Captain. Seeking to ascertain your state."

Jim sighed. "I'm fine, Spock. Bones released me days ago. It barely even hurts anymore."

"That it hurts at all is an affront to me."

Jim chuckled, the laugh he used only with Spock that made his entire face light up from its somber state. He finally turned and met Spock's gaze above him.

"Thanks again, by the way," he said. "For, you know, saving me. Again."

"Your gratitude is unnecessary, Captain."

"Spock, on Earth you say 'you're welcome.'"

Spock hesitated. "You are welcome, Jim." 

"See, there ya go." Jim chuckled again and looked at Spock like he wanted to say something else. He blinked a few times and opened and closed his mouth, and then something covered his expression. That small, invisible barrier that only Spock could see, where he closed himself off and once again pretended to be what he felt was needed. It devastated Spock. He knelt down and crossed his legs to sit across from Jim. Jim glanced at him, but returned his gaze to the stars. The light caught his face with such beauty, but it also highlighted the shadows of fatigue and stress. And sadness.

"Jim" Spock said. "If you are in distress, I would help."

"Distress? No, I'm fine. Just lots on my mind. You know me."

"I do."

Jim looked at him for a long moment. Then he sighed and let his gaze travel over the many stars, like he was looking for a distraction.

"It just gets hard sometimes, Spock. I learned a long time ago not to let emotions get in the way of things, cause it always ends in shit. People always get hurt. And being Captain means I have to push emotions out of the picture even more. I have responsibilities and duties over so many people's lives, and it's my job to make sure they stay alive."

"That is incorrect, Captain."

Jim's eyebrows shot up. "Beg pardon?"

Spock shook his head. "Jim, it is your responsibility as Captain to lead your crew and this ship as successfully as you can. It is not in your job description to hold the life of every crewmember in your hand. Such a task is impossible for any Starfleet Captain."

"It may not be in the official job description," Jim sighed. "But it's what's expected."

"I would remind you that as your First Officer, it is in my job responsibility to help you in this task. It is also my responsibility and my duty as your friend to provide you with support."

Jim smiled. A genuine one, but not one that reached his whole face. "And I'm glad of it, Spock. Truly. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"It is my prerogative to ensure you need never find out."

"That sounds like a very emotionally-drive prerogative."

Spock sighed and then nodded. "It is also logical given that my desire is that you should never face harm alone. You have been forced to accomplish things on your own for far too long, I believe. It is a pattern with consequences of which I do not approve."

"Sometimes, Spock, you don't get to decide how to handle things. Sometimes there's no choice. You don't know what you're supposed to do--only what you know you can do in that moment."

Spock’s face trembled and hardened. "You said those words to me once and then faced an unacceptable outcome."

"But that's the prime example then, isn't it. Every day, you have to face the Kobayashi Maru, and it's your job to take the only action that will win it."

"For someone who does not believe in no-win scenarios, it seems you are incapable of applying that logic to yourself. You win, but at the consequence of risking your own life."

Jim just shrugged. Spock had not intended to raise his voice, but his frustration was clear, and Jim noticed it. He became silent, unwilling to continue the conversation, and Spock sighed, disappointed in his own lack of control. Again. 

"Forgive me," he said. "I speak out of turn."

"No. No, I want your honesty. I need it in you. You keep me steady. I never want you to feel like you can't speak your mind to me, Spock."

"And I you. I...has Commander Marcus visited you recently?"

"Carol?" Jim seemed surprised. "Nah, she's usually in Engineering with Scotty. Poor guy can't see how hard she's flirting with him."

Spock raised his eyebrows. So Commander Marcus was not interested in Jim. But was Jim still seeking her? It would explain his low spirits. Spock did not know what to say. He knew what it was like to yearn after another who did not return his affections, and he ached that Jim was feeling this himself. He knew Jim would never say anything to her if he believed she was content with Mr. Scott. 

"You were in my head again, weren't you," Jim said. "In Sickbay. I remember I was having a nightmare."

Spock grimaced and opened his mouth to apologize.

"Thank you," Jim said. He was tracing circles on the window, not meeting Spock's eyes. "It's...you know I get them a lot. I'm sure you hear me at night. It was nice to feel something warm and comforting come in and block it for once. It felt like you, if that makes sense. I knew it was you in my head, and while a part of me was freaking out at what you might be seeing, I also knew you wouldn't invade my privacy. So I trust you won't mention it if you did see anything specific, and that you won't ever go looking for it." 

Spock sucked in a deep breath. Jim had known he was there? Had felt him in his mind and _recognized_ him? Had he somehow allowed the bond to take hold? Jim was looking at him strangely now, waiting for him to say something. Spock opened and closed his mouth, realizing he was giving the confused stare Jim hated, the one he called his “does not compute” face. But he could not change it, and sure enough, Jim rolled his eyes a bit and resumed staring into the stars.

“I am glad I was able to assist you, Captain,” he finally said.

“Can I ask you something?” Jim said suddenly, as if he had not heard. And he did not wait for Spock’s permission.

“What is it with you and always calling me ‘Captain’ even when we’re not on duty? Is it that difficult to use my name?”

Spock glanced at the fingers twisted in his lap. “I...I defer to your title in order to remain within professional bounds.”

“But we’re more than just professionals, aren’t we? We’re friends...Right?”

“Of course.”

“Right, so it’s not disrespectful or unprofessional to use my name. You don’t hear me calling Scotty and Sulu by their station names. I only call Bones ‘Doctor’ cause it pisses him off and he needs reminding more than the others sometimes.”

“I understand,” Spock said. “It is...difficult for me.”

“You called me ‘Jim’ down there on that planet when I was dying. I did die, according to Bones. But you pulled me back. So...what, do I have to emotionally compromise you to get you to call me something that matters?”

Spock clenched his eyes shut and lowered his head. “I cannot explain.”

Jim was quiet for a moment. “Why?” he asked softly. “Is it a Vulcan thing or something else?”

Jim was giving him an out. He wanted an answer, and he knew he was pressing. He wanted Spock to go there, but he did not know if he could. Surely Jim understood the emotional strain of familiarity for him. But he wanted to know why it was there, and Spock wanted to lean closer to the sad, beautiful face, and say, _”Because I want nothing more than to call you by your name. ‘A rose by any other name would smell just as sweet,’ and if I call you by your name, I will fall. To say your name is to say everything else I cannot put into words.”_

”I...I cannot—“

“Nevermind.” Jim sighed, and the barrier returned over his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Spock. I’m gonna head back to bed, okay? Thanks for sitting with me.”

Spock watched, unable to find his voice as Jim unfolded his elegant body and stood up stiffly, his hand holding his side. But he still patted Spock on the shoulder as he walked away. Spock followed his shadow as he left the Observation Deck, the way his frame illuminated when the doors slid open and the bright hallway light covered him. And then he was gone.

“Good night, Jim,” he whispered.


End file.
